Denial Isn't Just A River In Egypt
by ravenbard
Summary: Pam wants to kiss and forget. Tara wants to do more than kiss. What happens when the tension between maker and progeny reach a critical point?
1. Level I – Pathological Defenses

**TITLE:** Denial Isn't Just A River In Egypt

**RATING:** M for language, violence and mature themes

**PAIRING:** Pam/Tara

**SYNOPSIS:** Pam wants to kiss and forget. Tara wants to do more than kiss. What happens when the tension between maker and progeny reach a critical point?

**DISCLAIMER:** True Blood and its delightfully complex characters do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them to satiate my muse.

**A/N:** So, many stories have revolved around Pam and Tara accepting the sudden development in their relationship. I've decided to go a different route and explore a story where Pam is buried deep beneath a sea of denial.

FYI, the titles for each chapter and Pam's actions/reactions are going to be based on George Eman Vaillant's 4 levels of denial. Any misinterpretation is completely my fault; I barely scraped a pass for Psych 101 in college. That subject is so NOT my forte and all my psych classes were at some godforsaken hour of the morning which didn't help. Anyway, enjoy!

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**Level I – Pathological Defenses**

It was "Ignore Tara" day. The vampire in question watched with sulky eyes as her maker backed out of the room as quickly as she had entered it and found Tara sprawled across the couch.

Tara bit back a growl of frustration as she flopped back onto the couch, the careless action causing her hair to splay out around her like flowing black water. Ever since The Kiss happened, Pam had been acting borderline bi-polar. There were days where her maker was her usual self; all snark and dry humor. Then there days like today, where Pam would actively avoid her progeny like the bubonic plague.

Tara rolled onto her stomach and allowed herself a moment's reprieve as she buried her head into the couch cushion and screamed out a stream of expletives that would have no doubt turned the air blue.

Ten days. It had been ten days since the motley crew of vampire, human and half-fairy had escaped The Authority. Ten days of being cooped up together in close quarters and learning to deal with each other's idiosyncrasies. Ten days of playing "Guess Which Pam It Is Today." Tara chewed off a new string of curses, punching half-heartedly at the couch as she went.

"Hey," a tentative voice floated over to the frustrated vampire.

Tara lifted her head mid-curse and found none other than Jessica standing timidly by the door. Groaning, she dropped her head back onto the couch, muttering nonsensically.

Jessica chewed her lip as she contemplated her actions. Curiosity won out and she found herself meandering across the room only to perch on the arm of the couch by Tara's head. She stared down at her fellow vampire, a bit startled to see Tara so unhinged. "Hey," she repeated, purposefully keeping her voice low, lest she provoke Tara into a rage. "You okay?"

"Do I fuckin' _look_ okay?" Tara snarled as she lifted her head to glare at the redheaded vampire.

"Move over."

Tara cocked her head in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Move over," Jessica instructed, indicating down the couch with a pale hand.

Tara rolled her eyes, bit back an acerbic reply and folded herself into a sitting position at the end of the couch.

Jessica plopped down next to her and brought her knees up to her chest. Propping her chin on her knees, she stared at Tara with concern clouding her cornflower blue eyes. Tara, for her part, was watching the front of her boots with forced fascination. "Have you talked to her about what happened?" Jessica finally questioned.

Tara rolled her eyes. "Have you _seen_ the way she's been acting? She's like a fuckin' emotional yo-yo. One minute she acts like everything's fine and the next minute she's hightailin' it out of every room I'm in like her fine ass caught fire."

Jessica smirked gleefully at Tara's blatant mention of Pam's posterior being "fine" but then nodded sympathetically . Pam's irrational mood swings were starting to take its toll on every occupant in the house. Even Eric, who was the most calm and levelheaded of the group, had been seen engaging in a heated discussion with his progeny. The two blondes had been found in the main living room hurling biting remarks back and forth in Old Swedish. It had ended with Eric throwing his hands up in defeat, a deep scowl etched across his face whilst Pam had sneered, called him a dick and turned on her heel before marching out the door.

"You really need to talk to her," Jessica implored beseechingly. "For everyone's sake."

Tara dropped her head against the back of the couch with an audible thump. "Nuh uh. I'm sick and tired of her hot and cold bullshit." She screwed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep but needless breath. "Kissing her was a goddamn mistake."

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Pam, who was currently hiding out in the small pantry, which happened to be adjacent to the small living room Tara was in, carefully nursed a bottle of Tru Blood.

"_Kissing her was a goddamn mistake."_

The sound of Tara's voice penetrated through the thin wall dividing the two rooms and floated over to tickle Pam's ears. Her fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle upon hearing those words but she relinquished the chokehold she had on the bottle when the glass began to crack and splinter under the pressure.

"Fuckin' baby vamps," Pam mumbled derisively before taking a healthy swig. She grimaced at the dead metallic taste and set the bottle back down.

Truth was, Pam knew she had been acting crazy. She had even managed to drive calm and collected Eric Northman into a frenzied state of frustration, which was quite a feat considering the almost endless supply of patience her maker had. But ever since The Kiss, Pam had been subjected to a myriad of foreign emotions that had left her like a PMS-ing teenage girl on steroids.

The Kiss. She lifted a hand to trace her full lips, still able to feel the soft brush of Tara's mouth against her own. The kiss had been unexpected but Pam was ashamed to say not entirely unwelcomed. In the heat of the moment, she had allowed Tara to walk into her arms and capture her lips with her own. In front of both Sookie and Jessica, Pam had given in to the moment and returned the kiss with fervor.

Now, she was reaping its consequences. Pam slugged back another mouthful of Tru Blood before sighing heavily. The Kiss had opened up the door to a flood of _feelings_ Pam was sure had been quelled by her jaded human life. Now they coursed through her veins, wrecking havoc as they went and Pam was sure that she would be driven insane by them.

Yet instead of dealing with them and talking to Tara about what The Kiss meant, Pam had taken a turn for the worst and retreated deep into the land of denial. There were days when she could safely push The Kiss to the far corners of her mind and pretend like everything was fine. These were the days when she could tolerate being in the same room as her progeny. However, there were days, like today, where The Kiss was all she could think about and being in such close proximity to Tara and having the younger vampire's scent wrap around her like a seductive noose was more than she could take.

"It was just a kiss," the blonde muttered to herself. "One kiss. It meant nothing. She means _nothin__g_."

'Lies," a smug voice answered inside Pam's head. 'You liked it,' the voice continued in a taunting manner.

"Shut up," Pam growled. She tugged a frustrated hand through her hair then shook her head in exasperation. Here she was, sitting alone and _arguing_ with herself. She was starting to lose it.

"Fuck," Pam muttered darkly. She drained the bottle of its red liquid then moved over to the sink to rinse it out before chucking it into the blue recycle bin located in the corner. "Fuck these _feelings_," she hissed, resolve hardening. She was a goddamn vampire, not some hapless damsel found flitting through romance novels. Feelings had no place in her world.

Back straightening, she marched out of the small pantry, bypassing Nora who jumped aside like a scalded cat upon seeing the dangerous glint in Pam's eye. She was going to squash these _feelings_ once and for all, consequences be damned.

As Pam made her way back to her room, she vowed for a mental makeover and pitied anyone would try to persuade her otherwise.

**TBC**


	2. Level II – Immature Defenses

**A/N –** Thank you to everybody who took the time to leave feedback. I really appreciate it. Here's chapter 2 for you. Enjoy!

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**Level II – Immature Defenses**

Tara and Pam were in the safe house's training room, the biggest room in their underground headquarters. Maker and progeny circled each other, lips pulled back into mirrored wordless snarls that revealed sharp fangs. Steel-blue eyes locked onto twin pools of rich coffee as the pair engaged in the dance of predators, their bodies ripe with anticipation.

At the far end of the room, Eric observed them quietly, arms crossed over his chest as his sea-blue eyes assessed their every move. The Viking vampire had purposefully paired them together because their fighting styles were so inherently different.

Pam, like any well-bred English girl, had grown up learning horseback riding, fencing and approaching matters with a cool, almost detached focus. Emotions had no place in her world and she relied on logic and strategy to tend to her needs.

Tara, on the other hand, had grown up rough. She relied on gut-instinct and utilized rage and anger to pack power to her punches. She put the adrenaline coursing through her body to good use and used it as a weapon. In essence, Tara was a street fighter.

Pairing these two off each other would no doubt ensure an interesting fight and judging by the waves of tension the pair was throwing around the room like rainbow flags at a pride parade, the tall Viking knew he was in for a visual treat.

Eric's eyes narrowed as Pam's lips curled. Internally, he rolled his eyes for he just knew that a snarky remark was going to fall from between those luscious lips. He wasn't wrong.

"What's the matter, sweet thang? Afraid of lil' ol' me?" Pam's smirk grew wicked as she danced almost daintily around her progeny. "Or are you afraid you can't handle having your pathetic ass handed to you?"

"You only wish you had an ass as fine as mine," Tara taunted as she began bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. She was spoiling for a fight, her newborn vampire hormones all but jacked up on adrenaline as she eyed her maker with visible distaste. Tara didn't know what the hell wasn't going through Pam's head nowadays but when Pam had stopped actively avoiding her and started viciously attacking her with choice words every chance she got, Tara had found her patience wearing thinner and thinner until it was all but hanging on a loose thread that was rapidly fraying.

"Oh please," Pam returned, a sardonic comment ready and burning on her tongue. "Your ass is only featured in pirates' dreams." She smiled smugly at Tara. "You know? Sunken treasure?"

"Fuck you," Tara spat out, clenching her fingers into tight fists. Her nails dug into the palm of her hands, cutting half-moon indentations into the skin. The young vampire was vibrating with anger that was desperate for release.

Pam let loose a trill of amused and mocking laughter. "Honey, I wouldn't let you fuck me with a ten foot pole."

"Why? 'Cuz that stick up your ass is already uncomfortable as is?" Tara snarked back. She bounced harder against the wooden floorboards. "Why can't you just fuckin' admit that you liked it when I kissed you, huh? Is it so hard to admit that you _felt_ something?"

"The only thing I _felt_," she emphasized the word with a mocking inflection. "…when you assaulted me with your slimy lips was _disgust_." The minute those words were out of her mouth, Pam felt the stab of regret but it was too late.

Tara's restraint broke. Snarling viciously, she leapt forward, intent on throwing Pam so hard against the concrete wall that she shattered. Her hands grappled with thin air however, as Pam blurred to the left and lashed out a brutal kick with her right leg. It caught Tara none too gently on her side, sending her flying through the air, only to land a few feet away from Pam.

"Bitch," Tara spat out, jumping up to her feet. "Fuckin' peroxide Barbie." She zoomed towards Pam, jumped into the air and released a kick that caught Pam under the chin.

Pam wobbled backward, grimacing as her teeth slammed shut together with an audible clack. She tasted the metallic flavor of blood permeating her mouth and realized that she had bitten her tongue. "Oh, I'm blonde all the way south, darlin'," Pam sassed as she swallowed the pool of blood that had blossomed out from the now closed wound on the side of her tongue. "Not that you'll ever have the pleasure of finding out." She moved forward a fraction, crouched down and swept a leg out. It caught Tara behind the ankles and robbed her of her balance, sending the young vampire crashing to the floor.

"Goddamn it!" Tara's head hit the ground with a sickening thud and stars momentarily fandango-ed across her eyes but she recovered quickly enough to spring back to her feet. She vamp sped toward Pam and threw a punch to her maker's face. Her knuckles connected against Pam's mouth with a solid crack, splitting the skin on her bottom lip wide open. Blood spurted out from the broken skin and trickled down the blonde vampire's chin.

Pam responded by kicking Tara in the chest, a purr of satisfaction crawling up her throat as she felt a few ribs give way under the pressure. She glided forward as Tara stumbled back and threw out a punch only to have it blocked by Tara's forearm. Pam grabbed the arm in question and used it to attempt to send Tara flying through the air a second time.

Tara, however, anticipating the move, locked strong fingers around Pam's wrist and used it to tether herself to her maker. She head-butted Pam, causing the blonde to release the grip she had on Tara and sent her staggering backwards.

"Fuck!" Pam bit out, holding her nose, which was currently gushing blood. "You broke my fuckin' nose you hillbilly cunt!"

Though the blonde's remark was garbled courtesy of Pam's hand over her nose and mouth, Tara still heard the stinging comment loud and clear. "Who are you calling a cunt, you stuck up, cold-hearted _whore_?"

Tara knew she had made a grave mistake the minute the word "whore" had raced out of her mouth like a high-speed train. Across the room, Eric visibly winced.

'_You whore!'_

At that one word, Pam froze, paralysis shooting into her muscles and rooting her to the ground. This reaction lasted all of one second. Then her eyes went stone cold, the look in them so chilly, it rivaled the arctic winds. Suddenly and quite without warning, Pam vamp sped up to her progeny, almost shaking with tangible rage. She greeted Tara with a roundhouse kick and followed it up with a series of punches to Tara's face. They landed with quick fire succession, each punch becoming quicker and faster than the last until her hands were a virtual blur.

"Never. Ever. _**Ever**_. Call. Me. A Whore," Pam seethed as she rained blow after blow onto her progeny, forcing Tara to back paddle as she attempted to block the furious punches. The red haze of anger was so thick over Pam's eyes that she failed to see Eric zoom towards her.

He pulled her off Tara with a careless hand and threw a heavily muscled arm across her chest, effectively pinning her to his side. "Enough." His voice brooked no argument. When his progeny continued to struggle against his hold, he reached up with his other hand to yank back her head by gripping a handful of her hair. "I said enough," he thundered, his face black with warning.

Tara, now hell bent on exacting revenge herself, ignored the pain screaming off her face and zoomed toward the pair. Her actions were abruptly halted when Eric simply plucked her off her feet mid-run.

Tara snarled at him, fangs distended and glinting dangerously off the overhead lights.

"Oh please," Eric sighed heavily, impatience coloring his tone. "I'm hundreds of years older than you. Put away the baby fangs before I knock them out."

Holding her by the front of her bloody shirt, Eric shook her once like a rag doll then a second time for good measure before dropping her unceremoniously onto the floor by his feet. There she lay in a crumpled mess, her face puffy and bruised, her chest singing with pain as her broken ribs attempted to stitch itself back together.

"I don't know what the _fuck_ is going on between you two but I want you to fix it. **Now**." Eric released his hold on Pam, throwing her a deadly glare when she attempted to move towards her progeny, malicious intent gleaming in those winter-gray eyes that were colder than the arctic sea. She froze and stared hatefully up at him before cutting her eyes away to bore holes into the ground.

"We are facing an oncoming war against an entity we do not yet know how to defeat," Eric continued. He ran a frustrated hand through his blonde hair, thoroughly sick and tired of Pam and Tara's mutiny towards each other. "I cannot, **will not** have factions within my family." He pinned the two with glowering stares, his eyes projecting his seriousness. "If the two of you cannot resolve your differences, I will personally kick you out of here and allow you to fend for yourselves."

With that threat still hanging in the air like an unwelcomed specter, Eric strode out of the training room, a muscle ticking above his jaw as he shook his head at the foolishness of the two vampires he left behind.

Silence blanketed the air as the two remaining vampires huddled in their respective spots. Minutes passed without a single sound before one of them moved.

Tara dragged herself to a nearby wall and propped herself against it. Her ribs had healed and her face was slowly leeching away the splashes of purple and green bruises that peppered the expanse of her face. Her hand, she noted, was bloody, both from the blood that seeped from the torn skin on her knuckles and Pam's blood.

"I can't do this with you anymore," Tara finally spoke into the silence. Her voice was defeated, resigned. She glanced across the room to where Pam resided. The blonde was sitting cross legged in the middle of the room, her head dropped onto her chest, messy blonde hair curtaining her face. It was such an uncharacteristic pose for the normally reticent vampire that Tara had to blink twice to convince herself that it wasn't a mirage.

"I'm not sorry I kissed you," Tara continued softly. She pressed the palm of her hand flat against the wall and used it as leverage to pull herself to her feet. Leaning heavily against it, she waited for the rest of her injuries to heal. "But I can see that you are." Tara inhaled deeply, as though the action would somehow sooth the hurt thumping out from her unbeating heart.

"I give okay?" Pam would never know just how hard it was for Tara to say those words. Defeat never came easily to the young vampire. All her life she had fought for things and giving in had never been an option. Until now. "You win. We can forget it ever happened." The minute those words were out of her mouth, Tara had to force her body not to flinch. She felt as though she had just staked herself through the heart with a silver spike. The pain from uttering those words were indescribably excruciating and if her heart could beat, the young vampire was sure that it would be drumming the most mournful tune against her ribs.

She steadied herself though. Tara was nothing if not strong against the onslaught of burning emotions. After all, she had spent her entire life building up walls and reinforcing them with steel. Sparing one last glance at Pam, who was as still as a statue, Tara walked out of the room, the only indication of her inner turmoil evident in her slumped shoulders and a face that was screwed up tight in an attempt not to cry.

Back in the room, Pam dropped her head into her hands, bloody tears leaking through the cracks of her fingers.

**TBC**


	3. Level III – Neurotic Defenses

**A/N** – Thank you all for reading and a special thank you for those who took the time to leave feedback. It's nice to know that people are enjoying this crazy story. Here's chapter 3, have fun!

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**Level III – Neurotic Defenses**

Tara hugged a pillow to her chest, her eyes staring blankly ahead. Next to her sat Jessica, who had her knees drawn up tightly against her chest, her pale arms wrapping around the front of her legs. She observed her fellow vampire with a quiet concern that sat oddly on a face that seemed much too young to carry such a heavy burden.

'_Broken,'_ was the first word that came to Jessica's mind when she continued to scrutinize the younger vampire. Tara looked broken. It wasn't a surprise given the events that had transpired over the past year. The redhead ran through a mental list of Tara's series of unfortunate events.

Thinking Sookie was dead. Running as fast and as far away from Bon Temps as she could. Living under a new identity. Finding out that Sookie _wasn't_ dead. Getting involved with a homicidal wiccan coven. Unintentionally screwing Eric _and_ Pam over. Pam honing in on her like rabid bloodhound. Chasing away her girlfriend to save them both. Pam _still_ wanting to kill her. Getting shot in the head and splattering brain matter all over Sookie's kitchen. Waking up to realize that she was a creature she despised more than words can say and that the vampire that made her had previously tried to hunt her down like so much sport.

Jessica shook her head as her list drew to a close. It was a wonder that Tara hadn't lost it completely and went off shrieking into the night. A weaker person would have buckled under all that pressure and insanity. But Tara wasn't one of them. Tara wasn't weak. Broken as she looked, as she was, weak was never a word to be associated with Tara Thornton.

"Hey," Jessica began. Her tone was soft, not a decibel above a hushed whisper and her eyes were bright with worry. She unwrapped an arm from her leg and started to extend it towards Tara but then retracted it. Tara had never been good at receiving physical comfort, too guarded and prickly from a childhood that was anything but nurturing.

"I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better," Jessica confessed instead, opting for words instead of touch. She propped her chin on her bent knees and peered across to Tara through thick lashes.

"You don't need to say anything," Tara responded robotically, her voice a flat, monotone drone. She hugged the pillow tighter to her, the object in question threatening to burst its stuffing from the vampire's strangled hold around it.

Jessica worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "Can I at least hug you?" she asked hesitantly. Her arms were itching to comfort Tara but without the younger vampire's permission, the redhead was afraid that her efforts would be met by a solid punch to the face.

Tara was silent for a full minute. Sadness hung off the dark-skinned vampire like a heavy cloak and there was such turmoil and confusion in her eyes that it all served to make her look far older than she actually was.

Just as Jessica had resigned herself to simply sitting vigil by the conflicted vampire, Tara turned to her, eyes brimming over with bloody tears.

"Can I get that hug now?"

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Soft sniffles could be heard emanating from behind the closed doors of Tara's room. It was followed by a chorus of soothing shushes from Jessica who had taken up residence in her fellow vampire's quarters after her now infamous altercation with Pam.

By some strange mutual association, everyone in the safe house knew about Pam and Tara's training session turned all-out fight. Each occupant had watched with various reactions buzzing through their heads as the pair emerged the next night with (metaphorical) bags under their eyes and blood staining their noses and ears. Maker and progeny now avoided each other at all costs and when they absolutely had to be in the same room as each other, they took extra care to keep a respectable distance, usually using one of their fellow housemates as a physical buffer.

Sookie shook her head as she rounded the corner of the narrow hallway that would lead to Pam's room. Tara may have broken the ties of friendship between them but that didn't mean that Sookie cared any less about her (former) best friend. She took quick, determined steps until she found herself outside of Pam's room. She announced herself with a series of quick, firm knocks and before Pam could throw out a remark to be left alone, the half-fairy turned the knob and opened the door, slipping through the crack it made.

"Get out, Tinkerbell," Pam's tired voice emerged from where she sat in front of the dresser, absentmindedly running a brush through her blonde hair.

"We need to talk," Sookie began, resolve written across her face. She dragged a spare chair next to Pam and plopped herself down on it.

Pam glared at Sookie through the mirror, her cerulean blue eyes flashing dangerously. "Do you normally barge into places where you are unwelcomed?" She raised a brow as she answered her own question. "No wait, of course you do. You're Sookie," she finished with a sarcastic flourish.

"Does the thought of being with Tara disgust you that much?" Sookie wasted no time in getting to the point. Beating around the bush would just prove to be futile and frankly, Sookie and the rest of the safe house inhabitants were weary to bone from the palpable tension that resonated from Pam and Tara.

"What's it to you?" Pam drawled nonchalantly as she continued to run her brush through her hair. She had briefly contemplated throwing Sookie out on her half-fairy ass but truthfully she was simply too exhausted to exert any unnecessary energy. Resisting the pull of dawn would do that to a vampire.

"Answer me," Sookie demanded, her patience wearing thin. Her back went ramrod straight as Pam turned to snarl at her. "Don't you snarl at me," the half-fairy chastised. "She's your progeny, Pam," Sookie continued in a gentler tone.

"Exactly." Pam set down the brush and turned to fully face Sookie. "She's my _progeny_, nothing more. A progeny, I might add, I was _forced_ to make," she added tone that dripped with disdain.

"Bullshit," Sookie called out. She didn't flinch when Pam turned those stormy blue eyes onto her. "If you felt nothing at all besides a sense of duty as her maker, you wouldn't be putting yourself, Tara and the rest of us through all this…drama." She continued hurriedly as Pam began to open her mouth to possibly throw out a snide remark. "I've seen the way you look at her."

"And how is that?" came the dry reply.

"You look at her the way I looked at Bill," Sookie supplied quietly, her voice hitching slightly as she forced the name of her former lover now turned possible crazed vampire, past her lips. "The way I looked at Eric. With longing," she finished, swallowing the lump that had grown in her throat.

A muscle in Pam's jaw twitched against the taut skin of her cheek. She remained silent, neither confirming nor denying Sookie's implication but realized belatedly that her silence spoke for her. She cursed quietly under her breath then tried to remedy the situation. "You don't know me, fairy."

"Perhaps not but I know you feel something for Tara."

"I don't feel anything so please get the hell out of my room before I throw you out." Pam picked up the hairbrush and resumed brushing her hair.

Sookie sighed and stood. She cast a lingering gaze onto the sullen vampire by the dresser before making her way out of the room. To her surprise, Eric stood outside, his tall body leaning casually against the wall. He raised an eyebrow, a question in his eyes but when Sookie shook her head in exasperation, he sighed and straightened. He indicated down the hallway with a jerk of his chin and Sookie took the hint and retreated.

Eric watched her go for a brief moment, an unreadable expression passing over his face before he turned and sauntered into Pam's room.

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"I said, get the fuck out!" Pam hissed. She turned to face her unwelcomed visitor, ready to zoom up to Sookie and send her flying through the door but found Eric standing there instead. Pam threw her hands up in disgust.

"I didn't realize my room had become Grand fuckin' Central," she sniped sarcastically. Standing, she tugged down the robe that had ridden up her thighs and trudged towards the four-poster bed, intent on burying her head into the numerous pillows that lay scattered by the headboard.

"Don't be rude, Pamela," Eric said softly and Pam groaned quietly in response. Eric only utilized her full name when he was in a lecturing and preaching mode and the blonde knew she in for a serious tongue lashing. And not the fun kind.

Eric shut the door behind him and toed off his boots. Then in a few great strides, he was standing by the side of the bed. He climbed onto it and settled his lean body down next to his progeny. One hand moved up to rest above his head and he snuck a quick glance at Pam before focusing his gaze onto the ceiling.

"This is getting ridiculous, Eric," Pam finally offered after her maker had remained willfully silent.

"_I agree,_" Eric replied in Old Swedish. He shot his progeny another glance. "You've always been stubborn, Pamela, but this time you're just being stupid."

"Did you just call me _stupid_?" Pam asked, incredulousness coloring her tone. She shot the blonde Viking a disbelieving glare, which quickly withered away into a look of anger.

"_Yes,"_ came Eric's simple reply, again in Old Swedish. He turned onto his side, his sea-blue eyes boring down on her like twin bullets. "Why do you run so hard from someone that could give you the world?"

"_You_ gave me the world," Pam replied shortly. "_You_ gave me a life worth living."

"And you choose to live it alone, slathered with sarcasm and attitude?" Eric shook his head in disbelief. "I never pegged you for a fool, let alone a stupid fool. But I guess I was wrong."

Incense flared up inside of Pam but she bit the inside of her cheek in order to thwart a biting comment that came far too easily to her lips. "Feelings get a person nowhere, Eric. You of all people should know that."

Eric shook his head sadly, wisps of blond hair tumbling over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. "Being loved by someone gives you strength. Loving someone gives you courage," he recited softly, he voice a low baritone. He reached out and cupped his progeny's cheek. "I know you love me, as I love you."

Pam's eyes shut of their own accord and she couldn't help but push her cheek further into Eric's palm. "Yes," she rasped, her voice husky with emotion. "I do love you."

"And you can love Tara," Eric implied. "Easily." He ran his thumb across the soft expanse of skin beneath his finger. "And she will love you back. Fiercely. Passionately. Completely." Pam's eyes opened as Eric continued to speak. He smiled softly down at her. "She has killed for you. Put her life on the line for you." Sea-blue eyes locked with Pam's azure blue ones. "She is devotion personified."

Silence. For once Pam was at a loss for words as the weight of Eric's statements sank into her conscious. Eric, for his part, remained wisely silent, allowing his fellow blonde to chew on the observations he had blatantly made.

"I lied," Eric's deep voice burred moments later. He cut his eyes back to Pam and stared deep into troubled pools of cerulean blue.

"About what?" Pam queried quietly, not having cottoned on to Eric's train of thought.

"What I said about loving you more when you were cold and heartless." He stroked long fingers down Pam's cheek. "I lied."

Pam released a choked laugh and pressed her cheek further into Eric's touch. Her eyes fluttered shut as Eric whispered a tender pattern of circles and swirls across the soft expanse of her cheek with the pads of his fingers.

"I'm afraid," Pam finally professed; her voice no louder than a petrified rasp. There. She said it. Voiced aloud the reason for her deep-rooted denial. Her shoulders slumped with relief as the burden she had been carrying was finally lifted from her shoulders and she turned into the cool cradle of Eric's arms, bloody tears meandering lazily down her cheeks.

Eric held Pam to his chest, smoothing a comforting hand down his back. He pressed butterfly kisses into her sweet smelling hair. _"My child,"_ he murmured in Old Swedish into her hair. _"Gullunge,"_ he whispered sweetly. He peppered kisses into her hair. "Love is the only gold."

A ragged sob tore from Pam's throat and Eric tightened his hold in response, uncaring of the fact that his white t-shirt was now smudged with blood. He held his progeny, rocking her gently as she released weeks of tension, regret, guilt and doubt. When her sobs finally began tapering off, he gentled his hold on her but kept a secure hand on the small of her back.

"Thank you." Pam's voice, normally husky, was now nothing more than a low rasp as her voice was flooded with emotion. She accepted the handkerchief Eric had produced from his jeans' pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

"_Var så god,"_ Eric replied. _You're welcome_. He looked down at his shirt then up at Pam, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as an opportunity for humor made itself known. "You owe me a new shirt."

Pam laughed, a genuine sound that wasn't burdened with turmoil, doubt and fear. She leaned down and hugged Eric tightly to her, glad for the tension breaker. "I'll buy you ten."

**TBC**

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**A/N 2 –** Okay, so my knowledge of Swedish is completely nil despite the fact that I have visited the awesome city of Stockholm and have watched The Millennium Trilogy series more times than is healthy. Nevertheless, I used the power of Google to find some words. Hopefully, they aren't take out of context…or completely wrong.

_**Gullunge**__ – _sweet child

_**Var så god**_ – you're welcome


	4. Level IV – Mature Defenses Part 1

**A/N** – You guys are getting along with this story like a house on fire! I would like to thank each and every one of you for your reviews; they mean a lot and it's great that you've taken the time to give me a glimpse inside your thoughts. Now, sentiments aside, this chapter, chapter 4, has been split in two because it became god awful long. So without further ado, here's chapter 4, part 1 for y'all. Have fun!

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**Level IV – Mature Defenses Part 1**

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort had never wanted for nothing. In her early days as a human, she had been pampered and spoiled, the silver spoon in her mouth providing her with material wealth and an endless stream of (relentlessly tedious) suitors. As a vampire, she had found great pleasure in taking what she wanted and thought she deserved.

Now, for the first time ever, however, what she wanted, desired, was being as evasive and as unresponsive a target as Pam had ever had the displeasure of setting her eyes upon.

The blonde sighed despondently as she stared in to the fireplace where a gentle flicker of orange-red flames swayed almost hypnotically in the grate. After Eric had knocked some sense into her stubborn skull, Pam had girded her mental loins and sought to make amends with her progeny.

So far, her attempts at verbally apologizing had been in vain. Tara neither acknowledged her, nor gave any indication that Pam existed. The young vampire wouldn't bolt when Pam entered a room but she didn't react to the blonde either. In fact, Tara acted like Pam wasn't there at all. It was as if Tara had erased the memory of the blonde from her mind.

'_Well, you know what they say,'_ a smarmy voice mocked from inside Pam's head. _'Out of sight, out of mind.'_

"Shut up," Pam grumbled. She carded a frustrated hand though her hair and wondered not for the umpteenth time, whether she had permanently and irreversibly screwed things up between Tara and her.

Being cold came easily to Pam. When her parents had disowned her and threw her out, leaving her to fend for herself in a world that was unkind and almost cruel to women, Pam had learned quickly to don an armor of indifference and wit. She learned the art of shrewdness, fine-tuned her calculating ways and battened down the hatches to her emotions.

Now the very mechanisms that had saw her through her human years, keeping her alive and relatively unscathed were stabbing her in the back. She had been so cold, so apathetic towards Tara that she had succeeded in not only freezing Tara out but freezing her up. As such, there was now such an impenetrable block of ice surrounding the young vampire that Pam was at a loss on how to start chiseling a path towards Tara's forgiveness.

"Fuck my life," Pam groused as she dropped her head into her hands, looking the very picture of disgruntled and discouraged.

'_You know what you have to do,'_ the voice in her head whispered, its tone laced with unbridled glee.

"No. No, I really don't, so spare me the cryptic bullshit and tell me already," Pam snapped back. Then she groaned in disgust. "I'm fuckin' _talkin'_ to myself." She shook her head in exasperation. "Someone call Dr. Freud," she sang out, voice laced heavily with sarcasm. Then she shook her head again in abject dismay. Never in her hundred and forty plus years did she ever think she would ever catch sight of herself arguing with imaginary voices in her head. The blonde had to concede that she had indeed hit rock bottom.

'_You need to __**woo**__ her,'_ the voice replied. It sounded smug. _'Actually, that's the wrong word,'_ the voice continued, its tone now all but dripping with high amusement and Pam knew that whatever was coming next was something she was **not** going to enjoy.

'_You need to _**grovel**_.'_

Pam's cerulean blue eyes widened in an almost comical fashion; the deer in the headlights look sitting oddly on her normally deadpan face.

"Oh, fuck me!"

Pamela Swynford de Beaufort had to grovel. Her long, drawn out groan of complete despair echoed all the way down the hall.

Rock bottom indeed.

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At first, Pam didn't quite know how to begin. The concept of groveling was as foreign to her as the surface of the sun. The very notion also irked her to the core; she was a goddamn vampire, she didn't grovel. But the blonde had begrudging come to realize that when it came to Tara, she had to step out of the boundaries of her comfort zone. _Far_ out of her comfort zone.

So, Pam started out with the little things, menial things. She put aside bottles of O+ for Tara because it was the young vampire's favorite. She left Tara books from her own personal collection when she discovered that Tara had a love of literature. She sat next to Tara at least once a day and engaged in a (one-sided) conversation, talking about everything from the weather to her pet peeves to her hopes, wishes and dreams. She even replenished Tara's supply of Marlboro Reds when they diminished even though she personally thought that smoking was a disgusting habit.

When Tara still failed to acknowledge her presence even though she didn't begrudge the things Pam did for her, the blonde changed tactics. Coming from a time where grand gestures of courtship were not only respected but _expected_, the blonde had no trouble in thinking up ways to get Tara to thaw. She left purple orchids by Tara's bedside table (purple was Tara's favorite color and orchids her favorite flower). She pulled Tara's chair out for her during dinner. She opened doors for her, accompanied her on walks when Eric deemed it safe and pointed out the constellations in the midnight-blue sky.

She even wrangled, (threatened) Jessica into ensuring Tara would meet her by the main living room one evening. And even though Tara remained willfully silent as she settled on the far end of the couch, Pam took no offence as she whipped out a tattered book of poems and began reciting her favorite verses to her progeny.

Poetry readings with Pam became a nightly thing between maker and progeny soon after. Pam considered it a small victory when Tara began willingly meeting her in the evenings and even though she still didn't talk or so much as throw a glance in Pam's direction, the blonde knew that Tara was listening, absorbing the lyrical words that bespoke of love, sorrow, pain and tragedy.

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

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_"'Til I turn from female love, and root up the Infernal Grove, I shall never worthy be, to step into Eternity..."*_

"Stop."

Pam looked up from the book she was reading from. The sound of Tara's voice, the very fact that she was addressing Pam directly after weeks of silence was so confounding and unexpected that the blonde couldn't help but blink in surprise.

"William Blake not to your taste?" Pam inquired in dulcet tones as she closed the book with a quiet thump. She felt her breath catch when Tara turned to look at her, actually lock her liquid brown eyes with her own stormy blue ones. She hadn't known just how much she missed looking into Tara's eyes until this very moment. The bittersweet chocolate gaze was mesmerizing.

"Why are you doing this?" Tara countered. Her voice was tired, resigned but there was also a tinge of confusion and vexation.

Pam's brows furrowed. "What exactly am I doing?"

"_This_!" Tara exclaimed, her voice suddenly more animated as she gestured between them. "Leaving me flowers, reading me _poetry_…what the fuck is your angle here?"

Pam clamped a lid on the tide of frustration and hurt that surged through her body. "I'm _trying_ to make amends," she bit out slowly, enunciating each word with careful precision lest she let her temper get the best of her. "Since you wouldn't accept my _hundred _over verbal apologies, I've had to improvise."

Tara shook her head. "Yeah and the minute I cave in, you'll be back to treating me like shit." She stood and brushed a hand down her jeans. "Let sleeping dogs lie, Pam. There's no future for us."

"The hell there isn't!" Pam was up and vamp speeding to stand in front of Tara. Her azure blue eyes were flashing dangerously with emotion. "You are _mine_," she announced boldly, her voice confident and resolute.

Tara barked out a bitter laugh. "I belong to nobody but myself." She tried to edge around Pam but the blonde followed her movements, effectively trapping her between herself and couch. "Move." There was a note of warning in Tara's voice.

"No." Pam knew she had screwed up, screwed up badly. But there was only so much she could do to mend the bridges between Tara and herself and if Tara kept knocking down the foundations, the bridges would never stand.

Tara shoved at Pam's shoulder, not hard to send the blonde stumbling, but firm enough to know that she meant business. "I said, _move._"

"And I said no," Pam countered, her voice flat with conviction. "You think you've got stubborn covered in spades, sweet thang?" A bit of that old Pam fire had infiltrated her tone and she smirked down at Tara, eyes burning with smugness. "Well you've just met your match. I _invented_ stubborn."

Tara reached up with two hands and pushed against Pam, this time with enough force to send the blonde skidding backwards a few inches. "Will you just let me go already?!" Tara shouted. She was absolutely aghast with herself when she felt bloody tears well in her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. "I've been through enough pain and heartache to last me two lifetimes. I _don't_ need you to add to my pile of steaming shit!" She sagged against the arm of the couch, shaking with sorrow. "Just let me go." Her voice was defeated and so utterly broken as the fight went out of her like air from a balloon.

"I don't know how."

Pam stared at Tara's subdued posture, her own eyes bloody as she spoke aloud a sentence that was ringing with more honesty than Pam could ever recall vocalizing. "Please," she implored, her voice quiet, soft, vulnerable. "Give us a chance."

Tara's shoulders shook as she tried to contain a sob that was fighting to crawl up her throat. "I can't." She stood and walked slowly towards the exit. Pausing by the door, she turned to look at Pam who watched her with hopeless eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm not strong enough."

And with that she walked out, leaving Pam standing forlornly in the middle of the room.

**TBC**

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**A/N 2** - * Verse is from William Blake's Broken Love.


	5. Level IV – Mature Defenses Part 2

**A/N** – This is it people, the end of the road. Thank you all for following me on this journey of crazy and thank you for your feedback and reviews. Happy reading!

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**Level IV – Mature Defenses Part 2**

The next few days saw everybody in the safe house walking on eggshells. Eric, Nora, Jason, Sookie and Jessica didn't know what recently transpired between Pam and Tara but with the way Pam stalked around the house, a lethal air hanging about her like a phantom ghost and her eyes all but iridescent with barely repressed hurt and anger, they knew it couldn't be anything good.

The gang didn't get any semblance of a hint out of Tara either, who was proving to be as tight-lipped and as unreadable. She wandered around the house with blank eyes and an even blanker expression stamped across her face. The young vampire spoke to nobody and rebuffed any attempts at comfort.

The end of the week saw Pam reaching her breaking point. The blond had had it. She was sick and tired of everything, of everyone. She had tried to be nice. She had _groveled_, she had apologized until she was blue in the face then apologized some more. She had poured her heart out, laid everything on the line and still it had solved nothing.

Now, Pam was at the end of her rope. If niceties, flowers and goddamn romantic gestures heaped on top of apologies, heartfelt pleas and soul-exposing conversations weren't going to do the trick then she was going to resort back to what she knew best: attitude.

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All eyes turned to Pam as she sauntered into the room, hips swaying in figure-hugging jeans, her movements confident, sassy and just a bit arrogant. Five pairs of eyes tracked her as she came to a stop in front of Tara and jutted out a hip before perching a pale hand on it. She glanced down at her progeny, a blonde eyebrow arched.

"We need to talk," she drawled, her voice dry as ever.

"Ain't got nothin' to say," Tara grumbled under her breath. She crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture of defiance even as she snuggled deeper into the couch, eyes trained obstinately on the TV hanging on the wall.

Pam's bravado deflated slightly under Tara's flagrant dismissal but she quickly found her second wind when she realized that she had an audience.

"OUT!" she barked, not in the mood to pour her heart out and possibly humiliate herself in front of her maker, his snobby sister, Sookie fuckin' Stackhouse, her dimwit brother and _Jessica_.

Nora and Jason immediately scattered, both muttering under their breaths as they scampered out of the room.

Eric made a show of pulling himself up to his full height before throwing Pam a sympathetic if somewhat mischievous and wicked smile then leisurely made his way out.

Now only Jessica and Sookie remained and Pam raised an intimidating eyebrow when neither of the pair showed signs of vacating their respective spots.

"Are you both deaf? I said leave!"

Jessica flinched at Pam's cutting tone and Sookie bit down on her lower lip but still neither budged.

Pam sighed in frustration and forcefully lowered the tone of her voice, making sure to take the acid out of her words. "Get out carrot-top." Okay, so the nicknames had stayed. "You too, fairy princess."

Jessica threw a sidelong glance at Sookie, obviously waiting for her guidance on the matter. The blonde continued to worry her bottom lip with teeth as she contemplated what to do. When Pam began tapping a foot in growing impatience, Sookie finally signed in resignation.

"C'mon, Jess." She began walking towards the door.

"Wait, really?" Whatever the redhead had been expecting, Sookie voluntarily leaving definitely wasn't it. She gaped at the blonde, her surprise and disbelief evident.

"It's not our business to pry in Pam and Tara's personal affairs," Sookie stated matter-of-factly. Her gran had always told her not to stick her nose in other people's business and she had violated that rule more times than she was comfortable with in regards to Pam and Tara. Maybe now it was time to listen to her grandmother.

"But…"

Jessica was cut off when Pam growled at her. "Do I have to _throw_ you out, Cheeto?" She took a menacing step forward.

Jessica made a noise in her throat then bounded quickly over to where Sookie was already halfway out the door. She did spare one last glance at Pam and attempted to say "don't you hurt Tara" with her eyes. Then she rounded the corner and disappeared down the hall.

Now that they were alone, Pam sucked in a needless breath before she returned her determined gaze back to her progeny.

"We need to talk." Her voice was quiet but firm, her tone brooking no argument.

Tara pointedly ignored her maker in favor of leaning forward to reach for the remote control. Her intention was to turn up the volume but slender fingers had barely begun to wrap around the object when Pam intervened by snatching the device out of the young vampire's grip and throwing it over her shoulder. It met a very messy demise as it smacked against the wall with an audible crack, spewing batteries and electronic parts onto the carpet below.

Pam paid the now broken remote no heed as she walked over to the TV to switch it off. The absence of the buzz from the television set threw the room into a tense and somewhat uncomfortable silence that had Tara slouching down into her seat, eyes now fixed firmly onto the ground.

"We _need_ to talk," Pam repeated yet again as she made her way back to Tara. She situated herself on the edge of the coffee table and looked straight into Tara's eyes. "_Now_."

The blonde's pleas for a conversation were met with stubborn silence. Blowing out a breath of frustration, Pam tugged a hand through her hair. "You really aren't going to make this easy, are you?" she sighed. "Look…"

"I have _nothing_ to say to you!" Tara suddenly shouted. Her head sprang back up and she leveled Pam with a withering glare.

"Then listen!" Pam snapped back, her temperature rising like magma from the earth.

"Why?" Tara cried, her voice choked with aggravation and more than a little fear. "Why do you gotta hash up all that shit again?" She stood and tried to edge around the couch but Pam shot out a hand and pushed her back onto the couch.

"_Goddamn it_, Tara, because we _need_ to talk about this!" Pam yelled back. The flat of her palm was pressed firmly on Tara's chest, preventing her progeny from attempting an escape.

"About what? What else is there to talk about?" Tara exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "You have got to be the stubbornest, most _irritating_, **pig-headed**, ANNOYING person I know!" she bellowed, her eyes wild with agitation.

"Why, thank you," Pam grinned saucily, Tara's words not affecting her at all.

"Urgh!" In an act of utter aggravation, Tara batted at Pam's extended arm, the one that kept her pinned to the couch, but the blonde was proving to be immoveable. Momentarily defeated, she gestured between them instead. "This? You and me? Ain't never gonna happen. It's not even _real_. It's just your blood talkin'."

"You are a god awful liar," Pam retorted. She retracted her arm but repositioned her legs so that they bracketed Tara's. "You know," she began thoughtfully. "You're doing the exact same thing I did at the beginning of this shit storm. You're _running_. With your tail firmly tucked between your legs. Before tonight, I would have never associated the word 'coward' with you but I now stand corrected."

"Fuck you, Pam," Tara snarled. The young vampire was so incensed that steam was practically curling out from her ears.

"Maybe later," the blonde replied coyly, a smirk slashing across her face. She leaned forward and balanced her elbows on her knees. "Tell me you don't want this." Blue eyes bore into coffee brown. "Tell me you don't want me." Her voice dropped several registers at this sentence, her naturally husky tone low and seductive.

"I want you 'bout as much as I want to see Eric parading around in your lacy thongs," Tara sniped archly.

"Been riffling through my underwear drawer, Tara?" A pale eyebrow rose in amusement. "I gotta say, that's desperate, even for you."

"Go to hell, Barbie," Tara snarled. She leaned back into the couch and shook her head angrily.

"Hell doesn't exist," Pam replied primly. She leaned forward another inch. "What's it going to take, Tara?" Cerulean blue eyes zeroed in on Tara's face. "I've apologized, I've been nice, I've been considerate, I've given you space, I've been _romantic_ –" The word romantic rolled off Pam's tongue like it was something bad she had found on the bottom of her shoe. "–and I have been honest. About _everything_." The blonde's ire was growing and it was evident in her voice, which was beginning to rise with vexation. "What's it going to take?"

"Are you so vain and narcissistic that you can't even believe that maybe I actually don't feel _anything_ for you?" Tara was grasping at straws and she knew it but she was stubborn and she certainly had her pride.

Pam chuckled, actually chuckled, the sound deep and throaty as it rumbled up from her chest. "Oh, sweet thang, you really need to learn how to lie better." She shook her head in affectionate exasperation. "But aside from your less than perfect lying skills, I can _feel_ what you're feeling. Remember?" She reminded Tara of their bond by tapping at a spot slightly above the swell of her left breast, a triumphant smirk painting her full lips.

Tara clasped a hand over her heart in instinctive response, a shudder rippling through her frame when she felt the hum of the bond beneath her skin. Then the realization of what she was doing smacked her upside the head and she scowled at her moment of weakness and dropped her hand. She refocused her attention back on Pam and her scowl deepened when she was greeted with her maker's smug smirk.

The young vampire wanted nothing more than to smack that simpering smile off of Pam's face but knowing that her bluff had been called, Tara's shoulders slumped. The way her entire body drooped with defeat was akin to watching air being let out of a tire. She sighed heavily, dropped her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

"You matter to me, Tara," Pam pressed on, her voice becoming vulnerable and soft as she adopted a more somber mask. "You _matter_." The blonde lay heavy emphasis on the word, hoping it would drive her point across. "I was just too arrogant and conceited to see it." She hesitated but then reached out and cradled one of Tara's hands in hers, sighing silently in relief when Tara didn't pull away. "But I can't keep this up with you. I _won't_." Her thumb began tracing nonsensical patterns across ebony skin. "So please, _please_. Talk to me."

"Do you know just how much power you have over me?" Tara's voice was barely audible, even to vampire ears. "Do you understand just how much you can _hurt_ me?" Tara's lids opened, revealing tormented eyes.

Pam nodded slowly. "Yes. About as much as you can hurt me." There was such truth, such resigned acceptance ringing out from that sentence that it startled the blonde.

"How do I know I can trust you, huh?" Tara was tired, so tired of fighting with Pam, with what she felt. Letting unmitigated pain and anger reign supreme within her had whittled her body, mind and soul to the precipice of physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. But she wasn't simply going to give in, she couldn't. Not when there was so much being put on the line. "How do I know you won't pull a 360 and go all batshit crazy on me again?"

Pam shook her head, the action sending locks of loose, wavy blonde hair to sway about her head. "You and me," she began, her voice soft. "We're two peas in a pod. We prefer to act first and think later." A self-depreciating laugh bubbled out from her throat. "Sometimes when I look at you, I see me." At Tara's curious gaze, she continued. "I see a woman who has been ridden hard by the world around her. I see how she hides behind reinforced steel walls and a quick tongue because they are the only things that keep her from losing her fuckin' mind." Pam reached out and cupped Tara's cheek in a gesture so uncharacteristic of the normally prickly vampire that Tara couldn't help but lean into the touch.

"But you know what else I see?" Pam prompted quietly. She relished the feel of Tara's soft skin beneath her fingers, honored that her progeny was allowing her such contact.

"What?" Tara's voice was equally soft now and she stared up at Pam with a new openness that was both a relief and petrifying.

"Strength," Pam said. "Courage. Resolve. Stubbornness." Her lips quirked at the adjective that was so befitting of the young vampire. "I also see a light so bright that it outshines the sun." She stroked long fingers down her progeny's cheek. "I can't promise I won't hurt you. That's a piecrust promise when we face eternity." She locked her stormy blue eyes onto Tara's bittersweet chocolate gaze. "But I can promise to bend." A rueful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "And I don't bend easily, Tara."

"Ditto," Tara replied, bestowing Pam with a small smile. She reached up and covered Pam's hand with her own. "It's always going to be a tug of war between us isn't it?" A sheepish expression fell over her face at the revelation.

Pam shrugged helplessly, hopelessness and amusement flitting across her features. "What can I say?" she drawled, sounding a little more like her normal self. "You seem to bring out the worst in me."

Tara let loose a watery laugh. "Right back atcha, blondie." Her expression turned serious again as she regarded her maker with beseeching eyes. "Don't break it," she said, her tone pleading, her expression anxious. "My heart," she explained softly when Pam shot her a confused look. "Don't break my heart."

"Are you giving it to me?" Pam's voice was breathy with wonder and awe, her winter-blue eyes shining brightly like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Only if you don't break it," Tara joked but the imploring undertone in her voice made it clear that it was anything but.

Pam closed the residual distance between them and pressed her forehead against Tara's. Turbulent eyes of sapphire blue collided with a whirlpool of rich dark chocolate. "I'll try," she said, her voice no louder than a hushed whisper, her tone at once happy and terrified. "I promise you, with all that I am, I'll try."

**TBC**


	6. Epilogue

**A/N** – Y'all are _relentless_! I go off to enjoy an internet free weekend and to ruminate over a possible new Tamela story between shopping and sunning and I open my email on Monday morning to find requests for an epilogue?! Relentless. But sweet. Now, I don't know if y'all wanted something serious, something sweet, something sexy or something funny so I tried to throw in a combo. Tried being the operative word. I'm not so good with the funny. Anyway, here's your epilogue; I hope you enjoy.

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**Epilogue**

"_Love, bittersweet, irrepressible, loosens my limbs and I tremble." - Sappho_

The feel of Pam's slight weight pressing her gently into the couch was igniting every last nerve in Tara's already highly-sensitized body. Reaching up, she buried her hands into the thick tangle of wavy blonde hair that cascaded down the sides of her maker's face like twins sheets of golden silk.

Pam moaned unashamedly into Tara's mouth at the feel of her progeny's hands digging lightly into her scalp. She kissed Tara harder, teasing the seams of Tara's lips with the tip of her tongue until Tara's mouth opened against hers, allowing her entry. She ventured in, tongue flicking over fangs that had distended in wake of their heated make out session before moving over to battle with Tara's own writhing muscle.

Tara couldn't help but arch into Pam as the blonde left no inch of her mouth unconquered. She bent her knees, allowing the vampire above her to settle more snugly between her legs. Then she ran her sock-clad feet down either side of Pam's jean covered thighs and past her calves, leaving a trail of shockwaves to burst through Pam's skin as she went. When she reached her ankles, Tara hooked her feet around them and in a swift and aggressive move that had Pam blinking up at her in stunned surprise, flipped her maker onto her back.

"Someone's cocky," Pam drawled, her voice having dropped several registers in wake of her raging libido. She arched an eyebrow as Tara smirked down at her, eyes glinting with mischief. "Yesss?" she asked, her tone dry though highly amused. She tucked an arm under her head and peered unblinkingly up at her progeny.

"You. Are. Beautiful," Tara breathed out reverently. She straddled Pam's hips, carelessly tossing her dark mane of tousled black hair over her shoulders as she studied the exquisite creature beneath her. "Breathtaking," Tara continued softly as she reached up to trace the delicate features of her maker's face. She ran the pads of her fingers over the gentle arch of Pam's eyebrows then slid a single finger down the slope of her perfectly sculpted nose. A thumb brushed across full lips that were bruised and swollen from the hours they had spent kissing and exploring each other's mouths. Tara finished by stroking her knuckles down the smooth expanse of Pam's cheek, marveling at the softness she found.

"Irreplaceable," she concluded, her eyes shining with emotion.

Pam's eyes closed at Tara's administrations, a lump forming in her throat. Never had she felt so loved, so cherished. Tara touched her like she was the most precious thing she had ever laid her eyes on. She looked at her like the moon and the stars rose and set at her behest, held her like she never wanted to let her go. The lump in her throat grew larger.

"Tara," Pam choked out, her voice hoarse with a hurricane of emotions she wasn't quite sure how to vocalize. "Tara."

"Shh…" The younger vampire could see the turmoil in her maker's eyes, almost taste her fear. She ran the pads of her fingers soothingly down Pam's cheek even as she stared unflinchingly into those azure blue depths. Tara had never seen such a beautiful shade of blue and the urge to drown herself in those eyes was near irresistible to ignore.

"Tara," Pam sighed. She reached up and ran her hands down the young vampire's sides and over her jean-clad thighs. "Kiss me."

Tara more than happily complied as she leaned down to capture Pam's lips in a deep, soulful kiss that sent sparks shooting down to the tips of her toes. She lay the palm of her hand against Pam's cheek, her thumb swishing gently back and forth against the soft skin as her mouth explored Pam's with a gentleness and care that threatened to cause an onslaught of blood-tears to well up in the blonde's eyes.

"I want to make love to you," Tara whispered against Pam's lips as she pulled back slightly to voice aloud her musing. She locked bittersweet chocolate eyes that were blown with arousal onto a raging whirlpool of steel-blue and winter-gray. "Let me make love to you," Tara said sweetly. She brushed a barely there kiss across Pam's lips.

"Yes," Pam breathed out. She tilted her head up and accepted another kiss, this time firmer, from Tara. "Yes," she repeated, her voice dropping to a husky growl.

Tara removed herself from Pam and held out a hand, gently tugging her maker to her feet when Pam took the proffered hand. She stood in front of the blonde, eyes hooded with desire. Reaching out, she grasped the hem of Pam's sweater and gently rolled it up her torso in an achingly slow manner that had Pam trembling with want. She tugged it over Pam's head and tossed it aside. Her breath hitched in throat as the article of clothing fell away to reveal a delicately toned abdomen and pale breasts that called to her like a siren's song.

"See something you like?" Pam drawled, hiking an eyebrow at Tara's blatant staring.

"Yup," came the simple reply. Tara sank to her knees and pressed a single soft kiss to the skin of Pam's stomach, causing the muscles beneath all that exquisite skin to quiver. Then she trailed teasing fingers down to the top of Pam's jeans. Popping the button, she dragged the hardy material down the expanse of Pam's long legs and when they reached her ankles, Pam kicked them off before reaching down to pull Tara back up.

The blonde wasn't as slow in her undressing of Tara but she was as gentle. Making quick work of divesting Tara of her tank top and jeans, she tossed aside the pieces of clothing then walked willingly back into Tara's arms.

Tara understood the silent request and laid them back down onto the couch. She lay half on top of Pam, one thigh nestled between her maker's legs and shuddered slightly when the evidence of Pam's arousal coated her skin. Reaching up, she resumed her stroking of Pam's cheek, a dreamy look settling across her face.

Pam took the opportunity of the close proximity of their faces to seek out a kiss. Tara responded immediately, pulling Pam's full lower lip between her mouth and gently biting down on it, leaving a neat line of indentations made by her teeth. Just as quickly, her tongue swiped over it, soothing away the hurt.

Pam moaned at the action and her fangs popped. Tara stopped and stared at Pam's fangs, a marker of just how aroused and not in control of her body she was. Maker and progeny paused momentarily, smiling at each other. Then Tara got down to business.

She claimed Pam's mouth with her own, alternating between wet, open-mouthed kisses with tongue to gentle brushes of her lips against Pam's. Then she moved away, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses as she went.

Tara moved her mouth along the side of Pam's jaw and nipped her way down the smooth, pale column of her maker's neck. She paused to worry at the soft flesh with her fangs and teasingly scraped the sharp incisors across the milky-white skin it found but she never actually pierced through the flesh. Continuing her journey, she meandered her lips over to Pam's collarbone, nipping, kissing and teasingly biting as she went.

Above Tara, Pam was panting needlessly, breathy gasps escaping from parted lips as Tara continued her pleasurable assault on her body. Her hands were far from idle as they ran up and down Tara's bare back, pausing intermittently to tangle themselves in Tara's hair before they resumed their exploration of the topography of her progeny's toned body. She moaned aloud when Tara latched onto her left breast, suckling at it with fervor. She moaned again, when one of Tara's hands lay purchase on her right breast and began an intricate pattern of caresses, pinches and pulls.

"Fuck," Pam hissed in pleasure when Tara bit down on the flesh above the swell of her breast, her fangs cutting into the milk-white flesh like so much soft butter. The blonde gripped the back of Tara's head and held her in place as spikes of arousal stabbed through her veins.

Tara lapped at the blood that wept from the twin puncture wounds. Pam tasted like honey and lavender and the wash of hot blood over her tongue was sending her hormones into a frenzy. Taking a last sip, she cleaned up the bloody smears, watched the puncture wounds close then slithered further down Pam's torso, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the way.

Pam writhed under Tara's administrations, frustration building within her. Her progeny was going far too slow for her liking and she indicated her displeasure with a forceful push against Tara's shoulder. She growled when Tara let loose a soft chuckle but that quickly tapered off into a needy moan when Tara pressed a firm kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"Tara. Tara, _please_." Pam couldn't believe she had been reduced to begging but the fire between her legs was borderline unbearable and she squirmed as Tara blew a cool breath over her clit. "Tara," she pleaded hopelessly.

"I got you," Tara murmured distractedly as her mouth watered at the sight of Pam's unabashed arousal. The scent of Pam's desire was so strong that Tara felt almost lightheaded from the intoxicating smell. Still, she managed a great show of restraint as she turned and planted minute kisses along the inside of Pam's thigh, teasingly dragging her tongue and lips up near the apex of those toned thighs before descending back down.

"Payback's a bitch," Pam warned as she lifted her head to glare down at her progeny who was now nibbling at the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her glare turned into a full-blown glower as Tara lifted her own head to reveal a wicked smirk.

"All in good time," Tara purred enticingly. She reached up and stroked a single digit down between Pam's wet folds, inciting a wanton moan from her maker. Grinning fiendishly, she sucked her now soaked finger into her eager mouth, cheeks hollowing out as she swallowed the essence of Pam's desire with an ardent groan.

Pam thought she could come then and there at the sight of Tara suckling at her finger. Instead, she reached down to grip Tara's jaw. "I want your mouth on me. _Now._" It was not a request and the intense heat that blazed from Pam's eyes told Tara that she had succeeded in pushing the blonde too far.

Tara batted away Pam's hand and surged forward. Both maker and progeny moaned in unison as Tara's lips came into contact with Pam's dripping center. She caught the blonde's clit between her teeth and clamped down gently, eliciting a series of curses and breathy gasps from Pam. Using her the flat of her tongue, she ran it up and down the length of Pam's sex, gathering up all evidence of Pam's arousal and letting it slid down her throat like the sweetest nectar. One hand moved up to grip her maker's hip, holding her in place as Pam's bucking and writhing became increasingly out of control.

Pam hissed in abject pleasure when Tara slipped two fingers inside of her and began a gentle but firm pumping. She bucked against Tara's hand, effortlessly finding a seamless rhythm with Tara's increasing thrusts. "More," she rasped, her voice hoarse with passion as Tara's tongue came into play and flicked its tip over her swollen clit.

Tara responded by sliding in a third finger and twisting the angle of her wrist. She was rewarded with Pam making a sound that sounded like a cross between a mewl and a drawn out moan. Grinning in sheer delight, she slid her fingers in and out of Pam in steady, deep strokes. When she felt Pam's inner walls clench around her digits, she increased the speed of her thrusts. Her tongue circled around her trapped fingers, lapping and licking at the drenched folds. Her nose nuzzled at the swollen bud of nerves and as Pam's mewling and moaning grew louder in intensity, Tara found herself driving her fingers as deeply into Pam as they could go with a speed and force that would have hurt a mere mortal.

Pam bucked shamelessly into Tara's hand, her mind fogging over with pleasure. When she felt Tara's fingers curl inside her to rub at that special spot, her entire body went rigid before it unraveled with wild abandon. Her orgasm exploded from the very center of her then proceeded to shoot through every nerve in her body. A scream of pure ecstasy ripped itself from the confines of her throat and Pam found herself gasping Tara's name over and over even as her body convulsed and twitched under the young vampire.

Tara winced slightly as Pam's thighs clamped down on either side of her head, effectively boxing her ears. Nevertheless, she ignored the slight ringing vibrating through her skull in favor of milking out her maker's orgasm. Retracting her fingers, she ran the soaked digits along Pam's puckered and drenched folds. Her tongue flicked out, tracing nonsensical patterns over the sopping wet flesh before moving over to her opening, teasing her maker with the promise of penetration.

Pam shuddered as she felt Tara's tongue enter her. Reaching down, she gripped at a handful of Tara's hair, forcibly pressing her face further into the apex of her thighs, effectively smothering her. Tara however, merely hummed in approval and the reverberations of the sound sent jolts of desire to vibrate through Pam's sex.

Tara tongued Pam's opening, pushing the writhing muscle in as far as it would go. Her thumb reached up to rub circles around the blonde's neglected clit as she continued to push her tongue in an out of Pam.

Pam shamelessly rode Tara's tongue. Head thrown back to allow her blonde hair to splay around her like a golden halo, she released needless pants that caused her chest to rise and fall in rapid succession. Her eyes were screwed shut and her face was aglow with pleasure. Her hips were in constant motion, thrusting and bucking under Tara's touch in a rhythm that was old as time itself.

When Tara removed her tongue and drove three fingers to the hilt inside of Pam, the blonde came a second time with an almighty yell that would have no doubt echoed all the way out of the room and down the hall. She screamed Tara's name when Tara bit down gently on her clit and twisted the fingers that were buried deep inside her, causing a third orgasm to quickly follow the second.

Tara smiled smugly as she watched Pam come undone. Truly, she had never been presented with a more beautiful sight then Pam writhing beneath her, her body confined in the throes of passion. Minutes seem to pass before Pam collapsed back fully onto the couch, chest heaving unnecessarily, which caused her ample bosom to bounce lightly. Her body twitched with the aftershocks of her orgasms and there was a supremely satisfied look that sat across her face. Her blond hair lay in a tangled mess around her and her eyes were hooded and cloudy with pleasure.

"Fuck," Tara breathed out, awe coloring her tone. "That was hot," Tara commented smugly as she propped her chin on the top of Pam's thigh. She smirked up at her maker who in return, arched an eyebrow down at her.

If Tara thought that she had succeeded in making Pam into a boneless, useless mess, she was wrong. In less than a blink of an eye, she had sat up, reached down and flipped them over. Now she hovered above Tara, a sinfully wicked smile slashed across her lips and Tara knew that she was in for it

"Payback's a bitch," Pam reminded her progeny with a deliciously evil laugh. She slipped a thigh between Tara's legs and pressed upwards resulting in a gasp from the young vampire. With a decidedly wicked smirk that promised retribution, she looked down at Tara. "You ready for the ride of your life, darlin'?"

xxxxxxxx

Huddled in the small pantry sat Eric and Nora, who took turns sipping from a bottle of Tru Blood which they traded between them. When yet another scream of unadulterated pleasure wafted into the room to tease their ears, Nora groaned in frustration and dropped her head in her hands.

"We are burning that couch," she mumbled into her fingers. "And fumigating that living room," she added darkly. She winced as another ear-shattering scream of lust echoed into the pantry.

"For the love of everything sacred," Nora lamented in exasperation, her face contorting with disgust. "Are they ever going to come up for air?"

"We don't breathe," Eric deadpanned. He took a healthy swig from the bottle, slid it back across the table then flashed a row of perfect pearly white teeth at Nora's direction.

"They're going to have to give it a rest sooner or later," Nora insisted desperately as nimble fingers caught the flying bottle. "Right?" She turned pleading eyes on her brother as multiple guttural vocalizations of pleasure vibrated down the hallway to assault her ears. It was followed by a series of thumps and screeches, no doubt made by the couch legs being dragged unwillingly across the wooden floors.

"Well you know what they say about denial," Eric offered nonchalantly with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

"What?"

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

**THE END **_(No, really)_


End file.
